


Breathe and Take a Breath

by Tish



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 05:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17781440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: Being wounded in a snow storm is bad enough, but at least an U.N.C.L.E. agent has a healthy partner to help him through it. Right?





	Breathe and Take a Breath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Corvidology](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvidology/gifts).



“Breathe, please Napoleon, just breathe,” Illya's words froze in the chill air, barely audible in the howling gale that wrapped its arms around them. The snow piled up in wind-driven mounds beside them as the night drew in.

Napoleon's lips moved and he inhaled a ragged breath, his eyes snapping open and lucid. “Illya!”

“I'm here,” Illya reassured him, hands slowly moving over Napoleon's face and down his chest. “We need to move on. We're almost to safety, I promise.”

Napoleon lurched up with a cry of pain, muttering his thanks as Illya slipped one arm under his arm and pulled him close.

“This way,” Illya pointed into the grey, featureless landscape.

To Napoleon, the sky and ground were as one, but he trusted Illya implicitly, and started walking onwards. He hid his gasps of pain under his breath, but the wind drowned everything out, anyway.

They staggered on, bent over from the wind and sleet pushing into their faces. They couldn't stop, not now, not until safety.

Illya's body was so close to his, and Napoleon thought back to the warmth of his embrace as they lay in bed together. He thought of the tender way Illya would trace a finger down his chest and over his ribs, of his fiendish grip when it reached his cock. Napoleon bathed himself in the memory of that heat as Illya worked him into a lust-fuelled frenzy. The memory of his cries blended into his own soft cries. Pain and pleasure, the difference is slight but significant. He took a deep breath and marched on.

For Illya, his focus was on the small, dark feature that came into view on the horizon. He knew the building was sparse, but it had the right number of walls and a complete roof. That was enough to keep them going until they could be rescued. He ignored his own pain and kept a tight grip on Napoleon, not wanting him to fall again. He felt the strange warmth from his own wound, flaring into pain with every step. They couldn't stop, not now.

“I see the building now. Just a hop, skip, and a jump away,” Napoleon said cheerfully, hoping the dread hand of death wouldn't snatch at them when safety was within reach.

“Perhaps we could play hopscotch later, Napoleon,” Illya said, feeling a pang in his heart from Napoleon's bravado.

“A brisk 5 mile cross-country hike, then. Very bracing,” Napoleon replied as he carefully planted one foot then the other into the deeper snow before them.

Illya could only nod as he trudged on, the wind picking at his head covering, threatening to blow it open. He pulled at the hood with his free hand, making sure his other was firmly wrapped around Napoleon's waist.

 

One step, then another, then a mile of steps. It all added up, even if their pace was glacial. But even glaciers covered continents. Illya just hoped an ice age wouldn't pass for them to cover the distance.

The grey sky subtly turned darker with every step they took. Napoleon trusted Illya's uncanny inner compass and his ability to guide them to the building, no matter how dark it got.

They laboured on in silence, save for gasps and grunts, barely heard by the other. _Take a step, take another step_ , Napoleon told himself as he shakily lifted each leg in turn. _Almost there, almost there._

Illya took out the flashlight to guide the way. It barely made a dent as night fell and the sleet turned to swirling snow, but it comforted Napoleon.

Illya could see the building grow larger as they approached it. He remembered the sanctuary of another battered and ramshackle building, long ago on another snow-blind night. Sounds were somehow deadened in this weather, and he had staggered into the old cow shed and collapsed into a bed of straw. It stank and itched, but it provided warmth for his thin body. He had slept the night away, exhaustion taking him from the horrors of war outside. Illya shook the memory away and held Napoleon a little closer.

Napoleon felt he was hallucinating, one moment the building seemed so far away, the next, it was so close. He felt a warmth stir in him anew and he managed to quicken his pace. He felt Illya match strides and they pressed on.

At last, Illya slumped against the wall, then pressed his way to the door, his free hand sliding along the rough brickwork as they went. A moment later, and they were inside, the door closed against the deadly elements outside. The flashlight provided enough illumination to see the fireplace, waiting to be filled with wood and lit.

Napoleon gingerly lowered himself to the floor and handed over some kindling for Illya to light. It took a minute for the fire to catch, but it slowly and surely started to glow, orange and warm. Illya rubbed his hands slowly before the flame, as if hypnotised. Napoleon allowed himself to gasp in pain as he shifted position.

In an instant Illya was beside him, kneeling, then slumping ungracefully. “Let me see your injury,” he insisted.

“It's just bruising, maybe something's cracked,” Napoleon reassured him.

“I want to be sure you are not bleeding, Napoleon. Please.” Illya's hand hovered over Napoleon's jacket, ready to gently move aside his clothing.

Napoleon nodded and tried to breathe evenly as Illya tenderly pressed against Napoleon's side, and down his body.

“I hope my hands are not too cold,” Illya said as he examined Napoleon.

“You have a warm heart, it heats every part of you, Illya,” Napoleon answered with a radiant smile, despite the pain.

Illya let a smile flash across his face. “Well, you could power a city with the love in your heart. I shall always be grateful for that.”

Napoleon pulled himself closer to the wall, leaning back with a sigh. “I expect I'll be in with the U.N.C.L.E. medics again after this. They'll be sick of me by now.”

“I'll be there to keep you company, Napoleon.” Ilya said as he tiredly snuggled next to Napoleon, lifting his shirt. “I wanted to make sure you weren't too badly injured. I may have internal bleeding.”

“Well, what are we waiting for? I'm calling in,” Napoleon's face contorted with pain and concern as he scrambled for his communicator.

“We have an activated beacon, we have shelter. The rescue team will find us in the morning once the blizzard dies down,” Illya softly reassured him.

“ _If_ it dies down. It could last for days,” Napoleon said urgently.

“I know this weather. We can have something to eat, then sleep,” Illya was stroking Napoleon's hand now, his voice soft.

Napoleon let his head rest against Illya's as he called in. “I trust you with my life, but I would still like an idea of how long we'll be stuck here. Okay?”

Illya unwrapped the rations and listened to Napoleon's voice as he rested beside him. He closed his eyes and remembered Napoleon's whispers of desire and passion in the night, his warm breath on his naked skin on a cold night in Warsaw, and the way he would cradle his hand under the nape of Illya's neck, his fingers sweeping circles through his hair, murmuring with delight as he grew it longer through the years.

Replacing his communicator, Napoleon took the ration pack and paused to gaze into Illya's eyes, one bright blue in the light of the fire, the other hidden in semi-darkness. “With each step, with each breath, I'm glad you're with me, Illya. I don't think I've ever told you how much you mean to me.”

Illya tilted his head slightly, so both his eyes were in the light. “But you have, Napoleon. You've told me with words and deeds, and with your body.”

With that, he leaned closer and tenderly kissed Napoleon, the warmth of the fire and Illya's love filling Napoleon with life and hope.

 


End file.
